


Better Days

by Sparroet



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, coldflashweeks2018, day 2: kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 18:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14338485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparroet/pseuds/Sparroet
Summary: Leonard Snart doesn't deal in people. Scudder says this isn't a trafficking job, but all Len can see is them sending Barry straight back into the jaws of the monster that raised him.coldflashweek day 2: kidnapping





	Better Days

The job wasn’t supposed to be easy. It wasn’t anything close to Len’s usual. Thawne was a known billionaire, and his home was secluded in the woods for no apparent reason, no wife or security staff; just Thawne and his kid. 

When he sees it the first time, he has to pull over in the middle of the highway, drop to his knees on the shoulder and vomit. The kid’s been easy, quiet and compliant and Len looks up in the mirror at him in the backseat, where Scudder’s been mumbling something to him about ransoms and good behavior, and Len catches the way his shoulders are hunched, how he flinches at nearly any sudden gesture Scudder makes, how his head is bowed and how when he does look up - his eyes. Len knows that look. The kid isn't scared of them. He’s desperate, and he’s scared to go home, if not resigned to the fact begging is useless because they’ve taken him specifically to pawn him right back to Thawne. That’s the other thing - they’d falsely assumed they’d be dealing with a teen, and the kid is at least mid twenties, another thing that doesn’t happen unless something is keeping him from moving forward in life.

So excuse Leonard if he’s got to take a minute, palms pushing rough into the asphalt, sweating and swearing at the sky above - if there is gods up there, they did this to him knowingly - made him choose between his own security and becoming the man his father was. Scudder gives a low whistle, “Eat somethin’ rotten, Snart? Hurry up, will ya?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Len mumbles, wiping the sweat from his brow, then drawing up to wipe off his grimy, asphalt burnt hands on his jeans, “You take the next few miles, Sam. I can keep our guest company.”

The rest of the ride, all twenty two and a half minutes it takes (he’s stopped counting, god, he’s so fucked up he can’t count the seconds) to travel to the quaint country style home they’re holed up in is quiet, save for whatever irrelevant bullshit Scudder is saying in the front seat, that thankfully they can really hear, and all Leonard really has the presence to say is, “I’m Len. You are?”

The kid is quiet for a long time, then shudders, like he’s afraid Len will be mad at him for taking too long to respond, “Barry.”

Len doesn’t reply, just cuts the knots that bind Barry’s wrists, and gives his palm a little squeeze, hoping his eyes can communicate the words he doesn’t know how to say. Barry looks up, and squeezes back, then settles in to his seat, gazing out the window to watch the landscape flash by. Leonard leans back in his own seat, and closes his eyes heavily. They arrive and unload without much fuss, though Sam looks a bit skeptical at the fact Barry is free, the kid is smart and stays quiet, following behind him diligently, right into the waiting arms of Mick. Len shakes his head, and pulls Mick into the kitchen, while Scudder rushes off to find some rope and a video camera he’d stored upstairs. 

“What’s the big deal, boss?” Mick growls, leaning around the counter to get a glimpse of Barry, knees drawn up to his chest on the couch, “Thought we needed him real roughed up for the camera. Not goin’ soft on me, are ya?”

Len shakes his head, “Mick, he...he’s scared. And it isn’t of us.”

Mick seems to mull it over, and Len realizes he wasn’t clear enough, “Whatever Thawne did to him got him in a real bad way, Mick. I need this money as much as you, but dammit, you know I can’t stand for this type of thing.”

Mick sighs, drawing his hand over his scalp lightly, “I told you you wasn’t gonna be able t’handle  it, Lenny. People’s messy, but we ain’t sellin’ him.”

“Not literally,” Len pauses, “But you know how my old man is, Mick, and I know what that looks like. I can’t do this. It would never matter who or when it was.”

“If you’re sure, Lenny, you go talk to the kid, an’ let me handle Scudder. But you’s settin’ us up for another few jobs, I hope you know. I ain’t happy bout that.”

“Thank you,” They’re words he doesn’t say often, and damn, Mick knows it. He hates to show weakness, but he’s already lost his dignity on the side of the road, and if there’s one thing he’s pretty damn sure of, it's the look of someone who spent his whole life dodging blows from the man who was supposed to love him.

Mick trudges up the stairs with a yell of, “Scudder!” and Len knows they’ve just cut another tie in Central, but he can’t bring himself to care, cause this kid has to be the universe telling him there’s nothing left for him here, it's time to leave the old man alone to rot into dust. Lisa’s been waiting for him. So he sits on the opposite end of the ratty old couch from Barry, and waits to be acknowledged. Barry jumps when he hears the telltale thud from upstairs, and his gaze goes wide, pivoting to focus on Len, his bottom lip twitching. Len wishes he was better at this, but he was never a people’s person, so he settles for being blunt.

“You don’t want to go back there, do you?”

Barry blinks owlishly, and he shrinks back into the sofa, like the tattered ends will somehow shield him from this conversation. So Leonard continues, “We’re not good people, sure, but we also aren’t monsters. Scudder, maybe, but he isn’t in the equation anymore. I know you’ve got no reason to trust me. This - this is something I know well, and you tell me if I’m off the mark, okay?”

Barry looks a bit lost, but he nods, “Okay.”

“Because this,” Len says, pulling up his shirt to show the mess of scars, “Is what my dear old dad left me. I know how it is. You don’t want to hurt him because he’s fam-”

“He’s not my dad,” It’s the most Barry has said in the last two hours, and he’s choking up on the words, “My dad killed my mom, right in front of me, and I’m just lucky anyone was kind enough to take me in. I’m not worth any pity, or self projection.”

Leonard balks, “I know firsthand child protective services doesn’t actually care about your wellbeing. They just wanted you placed. I am not like-”

“It’s all about money,” Barry says, “Same reason you came after me, right? Money can buy off anyone.”

“Some things are more important,” Len whispers, surprised to find himself being authentic, for once, “and I can’t knowingly send you back there. Come with me.”

Barry is quiet again, both taken aback and pensive, “Do you even know where you’re going? Why would you bring me along? What if I don’t want to leave? I’ll just be a burden.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Leonard says, “And I notice you didn’t comment on my profession of choice. If I let you go now, where will you go? Right back to Thawne?”

“That’s where I’ve been all my life. It's better for everyone if I stay away and-,” he pauses, and he sniffles, breaking into quiet tears, “Just stop pretending you care.”

“Maybe I don’t really care. Maybe I just see myself in you,” Len huffed, “My reasoning doesn’t really matter, does it? This world is hard to navigate for people like me. Like us. Maybe I am selfish, and I don’t want to be alone with my sister, who has a normal life with normal friends, and feel like I’m fucking broken every minute of the day.”

Barry’s quiet again, but this one’s a different kind of silence, one that Leonard knows in less certain terms, “Okay,” he says simply, “Where will we go?”

Mick trudges down the stairs with Scudder’s limp body slung over his shoulder, pausing to observe the thick tension in the air. It's unlike Leonard to be open like this, and while he and Mick may disagree, he isn’t going to take this away from him. He frowns, “No score, then? It ain’t been the first time Lenny’d try to go clean, kid, an’ I ain’t gonna buy into it no more. You pays me my share, I take care of Scudder an’ be on my way. Keep ol’ Lenny’s head on straight kid, ya hear me?” 

Barry nods, very seriously, and Len lets the tiniest smile grace his lips, “I’m going to sell all my property in Central, unless a certain someone would prefer them.”

“I hear ya,” Mick grunts, “I can work with that. ‘Sides, I promised Lisa I’d come give her a visit sometime.”

They end up making an event of it; Leonard liquidates everything, packs his life into the trunk of a legally acquired sedan (which Barry cannot do, because Leonard will not allow him to go within ten miles of the Thawne manor), and writes a sizable check off to Mick, who waves them off with a promise to visit by springtime. There’s five hundred miles of open road ahead of them, and suddenly, beside him, Barry breaks out into manic glee. They’re doing it. They’re free.

Len wakes up, the first nightmare-less sleep in weeks, to see Barry, already awake and watching the rising sun hit the planes of Len’s face. He smiles back, soft and carefree for the first time in a very long time. Lisa will say they’re together, but Leonard claims it's bigger than that; as long as they have each other, they will not succumb to the call to the gaping jaws of the monsters in Central. Here, there is just the sand, the sea, their shitty one bedroom apartment, and the way Barry’s fingers seek his own, holding on both gentle and firm.

“I think,” Len says, “Life was never gonna be good for us. But it’s gonna be okay.”


End file.
